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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23672023">Going Postal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Error606707/pseuds/Error606707'>Error606707</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mystic Messenger (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Boredom strikes again, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:40:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,903</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23672023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Error606707/pseuds/Error606707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zen has an admirer, Valentine's day is looming, and Zen misses a delivery - perhaps from the lady he hopes to meet someday. Only trouble is, Zen is directionally challenged and a technoob, so how can he collect his missed delivery??</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Going Postal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was bored, yet again, so I asked my friend for a couple of prompts. She suggested this, and asked for her Zenny to be the victim... I mean, starring role.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Heather’s prompt - Picking up a parcel but can’t find the address.</p><p> </p><p>Huh? What’s this? Zen takes his key out of the door to his basement flat and sees a red card on his Welcome mat. He stoops low to pick it up, secretly hoping it’s another love letter. </p><p>“We tried to deliver your package… oh.” Zen’s shoulders slump in disappointment, but maybe… “What if it’s Valentines chocolates?!” </p><p>Not that he needs anymore, but since it is Valentines, and since he has been receiving anonymous love letters, maybe she has sent him a present.</p><p>He scans the delivery card once more, seeing an address to collect the parcel from. He doesn’t recognise the street name, but according to the card, he has 24 hours to figure it out before he can collect. </p><p>Zen’s heart lurches in anticipation of what lies in store for him, and sits at his small desk. </p><p>“Is it from you, princess?” he asks the red envelope containing the letter delivered three days ago. </p><p>He shouldn’t be taken in by a secret crush, but her letters seem so sincere and supportive, her words melt his heart and lifts his spirits. The feelings she gives him through her words give him energy and hope. She has been so different from other fans - never saying how much she loves him, never droning on about his looks; she had always recognised when he seemed tired on stage, given him reassurance and encouragement. He needs that in his life. From a woman in his life.<br/>
Ever since Yoosung got a girlfriend, Zen has felt more lonely than usual, the nights feeling a little colder. How did that whiny baby get a girl before he did? Is his beauty fading?! </p><p>Laughing at his own ridiculous suggestion, Zen strips out of his running gear and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, taking a moment to appreciate the cool air flowing from it. A cool shower will feel even better. </p><p>----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>With another script in front of him, Zen props himself up in bed, ready to tackle the monologue he has to deliver with power and depth. At least he won’t be shirtless in this production. </p><p>“Can the world really go back to how it once was after all I have done? Is it too late for my soul to be saved from the twisted shadows of Hell who reach out to take me? All I ever wanted was to be saved from the darkness, and I didn’t stop to consider the price. I’ve destroyed everything in my wake, the scorched Earth screams in pain, all because I was arrogant enough, greedy enough, hungry enough to believe I could hold your light in my hands...Man, who wrote this crap?!” </p><p>Zen throws the script to the end of his bed and slides down under the duvet and reaches out the empty side of his bed. </p><p>“Why can’t you be here?” Zen mumbles, taking the spare pillow and holding it close. “Will you ever tell me your name?” </p><p>Closing his eyes, Zen thinks of the words from her letters; each one committed to memory. How can such a wonderful lady be so far away from him? Could the parcel really be from her… he can only dream of its contents. </p><p>-------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>“Okay, okay, let’s see.” Zen loads up Google Maps on his phone, but this doesn’t seem right. </p><p>Not only does the postal code for the depot not match the street name, there is no depot! Is it worth turning up there, only to find it’s the wrong place?</p><p>Zen dresses and finishes his breakfast as he checks the map over and over again, hoping each instance will give him the right answer. Too much hassle. But what if it’s from his secret princess? What if it’s a ploy from his stalker last year? What if it’s chocolate his secret love has made for him? </p><p>“Gah, just go!” Zen cries out to the empty room. “I can always call someone if something isn’t right. Not Trust Fund, though.” </p><p>Still contemplating, Zen hears the letter box and flies to the door. A red envelope! His body sparks with excitement, his heart fills with song as he picks it up off the mat.<br/>
Taking no care, like he has with all other letters, Zen tears open the envelope, anxious to read her words. </p><p>‘My Lovely Zen,</p><p>I have written to you lots, told you little things about myself, but I have never told you how I truly feel.<br/>
Seeing you on stage, so close yet so far, makes my heart ache for you. I want to be closer, I want to see your beautiful face in front of mine, feel what it’s like to hold your hand.<br/>
You work so hard to be the most wonderful actor I have seen, I only wish I could help you read lines, act out scenes and make sure you take care of yourself. </p><p>But I’m too shy. I have always told you this, but I feel ready now. I want to meet you properly, will you meet me?<br/>
I know you are probably worried about how I look or if I’m good enough for you, but I am willing to take the chance of rejection, because then I’ll know if I’m not in your heart, I can try to move on. </p><p>Will you meet me on Thursday at 2pm outside the theatre you performed last week? There is a little cafe nearby where we can talk - that’s if things get that far. </p><p>I hope you like the scarf I made for you. I will be wearing a matching one, silly of me I know, but it’s just so you recognise me if you agree to meet. </p><p>I hope to meet you soon, Lovely Zen. </p><p>Love, K.’</p><p>K! Her name starts with K! Zen jumps up and down on the spot, not caring that his head keeps knocking the light shade on his low ceiling. He holds the latest letter to his chest and dares to dream. This time tomorrow, he will meet his secret love. Will she be as beautiful as her heart is? Will she let him hold her hand and tell her how much her letters mean to him? </p><p>“WHAT?!” He suddenly yells as her words sink in. “What scarf?!”  </p><p>Maybe this is what’s in the delivery he missed? Decision made, he pulls on his boots and laces them up. Locking the door behind him, Zen darts off towards the city, trying to convince himself to trust his friend as he opens Seven’s latest app creation.</p><p>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Nope. Zen rounds another corner and glances at the street sign. His feet ache and longs to rest, but he has to find the address on the card.  It has been one hour and no luck. Every turn he makes leads to a dead end, or another wrong place. The light blinking on the map tells him this is the right street, but it has placed him in the right spot no matter where he had been searching.  </p><p>“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Zen calls out, shaking his phone in frustration. “I swear to god, Seven, why is there always problems with your apps?” </p><p>First there was his ‘genius’ idea to make an app that shows where casting directors need actors, then there was the horrific app he made that located where that jerk’s cat hotels are located and how many ‘guests’ there were. And don’t even talk about that app that shows where single women are drinking alone. Every single app he had come up with resulted in arrest warrants. </p><p>‘Why won’t your damn map work?’ Zen texted Seven, hoping he could shed some light. </p><p>‘Where U trying to find?’ Seven asked, with a confused emoji.</p><p>‘A postal depot.’ Zen replied, forwarding the address. ‘I keep getting a blinking light, but I’m not where I’m supposed to be.’ </p><p>‘A blinking light? Lolololololol’</p><p>‘What’s so funny?????? I’m going to poison your supply of HBC next time I’m over. WHERE AM I?????’</p><p>‘NO!!!!! Not my precious chips :’( :’( :’( I’ll tell you… You’ve activated the GPS. You’re following yourself lolololololololol’ </p><p>What? Zen checks his phone, walking a few metres and seeing that the blinking light is indeed tracking his own movements. </p><p>‘Tell no one.’ Zen types as he blushes and decided on the more reliable option of asking a passerby for directions. </p><p>----------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Ignoring the total embarrassment of being told by some random stranger that he spelled the address wrong in Google Maps, Zen finally found the depot. </p><p>“ID please.” The dull clerks asks, his stony face devoid of any reason to live. </p><p>Zen hands over his licence and wonders if he were to lash his hand out, the clerk would flinch. </p><p>“Wait please.” </p><p>He paces as he waits for the zombie clerk to reappear and pulls out the mirror he keeps in his pocket. It’s not like someone is going to see him, he knows that, but he feels better knowing he is looking his best. </p><p>“Sorry to disturb you, but here is your parcel. Sign please.” </p><p>“Oh!” Zen jumps and immediately feels stupid. “I’m uh, I’m meeting a girl.” He lies and scribbles his signature on the dotted line. </p><p>He takes the small parcel and, not even thinking about opening it somewhere private, Zen walks into the street and finds the nearest bench. </p><p>Taking a moment to glare at all the happy, hand-holding couples walking past, he curses them under his breath the same way he does on every relationship-centric holiday. But not as harshly, he finds. Because maybe, just maybe, he will have a girl by his side. A girl to cherish and love. A girl prettier than Yoosung’s! </p><p>“Feels heavy for a scarf.” He frowns, but then wonders if there are Valentine’s chocolates too. After the long morning, he could certainly treat himself to just a little sugar. </p><p>Scoring the brown tape sealing the box with his house keys, Zen carefully lifts the flaps of cardboard and grabs the tissue paper covering his gift. </p><p>“What the….?” It feels too solid to be a scarf; too oddly shaped to be chocolates. </p><p>“I love you Zenny~!” </p><p>Zen screams as he hears a familiar voice from within the box, people passing by take a wide arc to avoid the gorgeous crazy man. </p><p>“I’ll be your Valentine~” </p><p>Zen pulls out the talking gift and freezes in fear. The fabric doll, about eight inches tall, wearing cute Barbie like clothing, bears an uncanny resemblance to Seven. The words ‘Tickle Me’ are stitched around a pink heart on it’s tummy. Scrunching his eyes shut, Zen presses the heart.</p><p>“Kiss me, my prince~” </p><p>“Make love to me Zenny~”</p><p>“OH MY GOD!” Zen drops the Seven-looking doll with the Seven-sounding voice on the ground, wishing a big dog would scoop it up in its jaws and make off with it. “DUDE!” </p><p>---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Pressing the ‘End Call’ button on his phone with enough force to almost crack the screen, Zen hangs up on an hysteric Seven. He had made the doll for Zen so he feels less lonely on V Day. </p><p>“Sick bastard!” Zen grumbles to himself as he finally arrives home. “I’d rather be gay like that trust fund jerk than have a doll like that.” </p><p>Slamming his front door closed, Zen turns around to lock his door, but sees another red card on his Welcome mat. </p><p>“Fuck my life.” </p><p>The End lol</p>
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